


Lucian's Four Eggs on a Plate.

by pissyellowcrocs



Category: Lunar Knights
Genre: Feet, Other, Oviposition, end me, enough already, foot, kick my ass, polidori - Freeform, this is the first thing i post on here?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 09:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissyellowcrocs/pseuds/pissyellowcrocs
Summary: dont read this im begging you





	1. Sunny Side Up the Anal Cavity

**Author's Note:**

> lucian is a yolk assed bitch
> 
> dont take any of this seriously

The sensation of eggs popping out of Lucian’s anal cavity was like no other.

The rotund unborn fetus that first plopped into his haphazardly made nest was delicate, and had he not been overcome with the amount of excitement that came with the act he found himself in, he would have felt the immense responsibility of protecting it with his life. What was happening? When will it stop? His questions would have to go permanently unanswered, no one around to hear his confused, yet happy pleas for assistance. Lucian had started feeling strange a few months ago, and refrained from seeing a doctor, but never did he expected this. The throbbing in his glowing and jiggling belly that morning was like no other, though not painful, rather a simple heartbeat, throbs coming in a pattern, repetitive. Every time he felt movement in his stomach, he would feel lightheaded, and for once, free; a way he hadn't felt in quite a long time.

Lucian should have been afraid of the slight bulge in his stomach, he should have been repulsed, but all he felt was an extreme calm, as he squatted over his bed, and prepared the covers for the coming events. It was instinctual, he didn’t need instructions in order to make the prime nest for his offspring. Humans didn’t lay eggs, no; but did vampires? Did he produce them on his own? He wasn’t sure, and at this moment, he didn’t care. He was enveloped and making sure his slimy soft eggs got out of his body as soon as possible, even though he felt part of him was leaving each time one exited his body, where excrement should have been.

Through tears, Lucian could make out that the egg was a clear colour, faintly blue, and about the size of his fist, though sticky, and pulsating. As he finished passing the second egg, his legs quaked, and he no longer could find the energy to squat any longer, now sprawled across his bed, tired tears falling down his face. The first egg was resistant, and needed to be removed by hand, and the second needed no assistance, slipping out with little trouble. Preparing himself for an incredible amount of eggs, hands tighten around sheets, bracing himself. The third egg peeks out of his asshole, before flying out, easily and fast, like a bullet, falling into his nest. Sweat covers his body, and he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Though he felt full and complete every time he passed an egg, he felt something was missing.

Ellen.

He wanted Ellen to be here, to watch him pass his kids like fucking kidney stones, he wanted support. But there was no one, and he was alone, tightly gripping the sheets for hours on end.

The fourth egg slips out like liquid, nice and easy, before Lucian falls asleep, cold and alone about his bed.


	2. Dreams Boiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lucian recalls polidori's feet as they were when they first met- soft and moist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since you guys loved my first chapter so much and some of you even asked for a sequel i shall comply. this is horrid. this is a mistake. i wrote this while listening to funky town nonstop. im damaged.

As he awoke, the first thing Lucian noticed was that his asshole was sore- and certainly not in the good way, this time. His hand searches for something, or someone to hold on to, to grasp his cold hand, but he finds nothing, which prompts him to awaken, and take in his surroundings. 

Egg fetus juice oozed from every orifice, and he finds himself with a newfound feeling of freedom. Perhaps giving birth, or something of the sort had taken more energy out of him than he had initially thought. The eggs, shortly after touching each other in the cloth nest Lucian had made minutes before he introduced his offspring to the world, had developed a thin, light green delicate ootheca around themselves. As he gathered his wits, Lucian remembered what had happened only hours before, and was now focused on learning how something like this had happened at all. He makes a weak attempt to crawl towards what he had just created, legs weak and trembling. An index gives one of the eggs an experimental prod, only for the egg to wriggle and glow, quite like what his stomach did previously. Upon closer inspection, Lucian could barely make out was seemed to be four horrifyingly large tadpoles, each with long luscious flowing purple hair, and, _wait_.

 _ **Wait**_.

Those feet, they looked too familiar, too **handsome** , too shapely. No, it couldn’t be; but it was the only possibility. Only _his_ feet were that soft looking, only _his_ heel was that perfect and round, only _his_ seven mangled toenails were that mesmerizing.

> [Polidori.](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Polidori-Feet-682516866)

Sure, he had thought about . . . him, and his feet more than he should have, but was it really a crime to love someone for their feet? He remembered their smell in vivid detail; sweaty and sweet, with a hint of something else, perhaps as a result of him being an alien. He hated the way his heart would throb when he should about removing his shoes, or running his fingers over his ankle; he hated all of it, but he loved it even more. He had an indescribable need to sink his sharp teeth into Polidori's foot, to taste his foot blood, but he had to be more realistic. The first time Lucian had seen Polidori's feet was by accident; when his shoe partially came off while walking, and when he saw the naughtiest patch of foot flesh, Lucian knew he was hooked. They looked so gentle, and Polidori was unworthy of having something so wonderful. Then again, what more was there to love than having your face trampled by your favorite foot?

No, back to reality.

Perhaps if he had been more careful, and perhaps if Lucian had gone to bars less, and perhaps if Polidori’s feet weren’t that perfect, the one night stand wouldn’t have happened. Did Polidori even know? Was this breed of quarter-vampire, quarter-human, half-alien going to be his new secret weapon? How could something he barely remembers affect him so badly in the long run? Mistakes. That’s all he was capable of making. First he got Ellen killed, and now he’d bedded the enemy. But now, here he stares at the alien product, the result of his loins swimming carefree in their amniotic fluid, ugly and ignorant. God, what would Ellen have thought? What would everyone else think when they find out? What has he done?

He feels like a traitor, and he’s ashamed,

but he can’t stop thinking about those

**erotic**

**green**

_**toes.** _


	3. Three is just the right number.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's more romantic than laying eggs as a group? Nothing, that's what. (takes place before chapter's one and two. a bit au.)
> 
> in which lucian gets 'tumors' get shoved up his asshole

Would he ever be used to these routine visits, though far and in between? He thought not, always wear, always forcing himself to tear his gaze away from the door of his rented room in whatever Bed and Breakfast he chose to stay at that night. He felt like such a traitor; such a filthy individual, everytime his heart pumped faster at the thought of  _ someone  _ barging in, as they had done in the past. It’s that holiday again; he remembers when he spent it with Ellen, he remembered happier times- but those are to be pushed aside, as they get in the way of more important things. The past is not the present, and he should not pretend like it is, no matter how much he yearns for it to be so. As much as he tries to ignore the painful, nagging loneliness he feels, his hand is still empty, as is his heart. 

The door of his room rattles for a moment, ruining his pathetic brooding, and he’s excited. He feels sick at the fact he looked forward to his arrival. After all, it was his fault Ellen was gone. A breath is sucked in as the door opens, but it released after woman peeked in, saying something about room service. With a wave of his hand, and an unwarranted ‘fuck off’, he returns to his brooding; or, pensive thinking, as he liked to call it. His hand clenches, and a tear trails down his cheek, splatting upon the table. Cursing to himself, he figures it was about time for him to sleep. -That is, right after he has a bit to drink. Maybe he’ll die of alcohol poisoning, hopefully he won’t wake up. 

Vision is hazy as he awakens, after having fallen asleep in the armchair, though he can very clearly feel like something is wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck stand, and he cracks his knuckles rearing for a fight, before daring to turn around. What he saw, did not agitate him, nor overjoy him. It was him; he was here, he made it. Dumas’ arms are crossed, and he’s leaning against the polished frame of his bed, a bored expression upon his face. Lucian shoots him a glare, sharp teeth grinding against each other as he reaches for his sword. 

“I don’t want you here.” He rasps, voice rough from sleep. 

Dumas laughs at that, and gives an uncaring shrug of his shoulders. “Are you sure? You look like you desperately need to . . . _**unwind**_. But if you want me to leave, then I guess I ought to get going then, don’t I?” 

As the vampire inches towards the door, Lucian readjusts his grip upon his sword, and stares at the other’s body language. How dare he be so uncaring, so relaxed?  **_Fuck_ ** him,  **fuck** **_him_ ** . Just as Dumas was reaching for the door knob, Lucian releases his grip upon his weapon, and reaches out towards the other. 

“Wait.” 

 

  * later.



 

Lucian’s breath hitches as Dumas languidly runs his hands across his bare chest. His fingers are softer than he had expected, his touch, far too gentle. As hands wander to Lucians’ stomach, they stop, drawing light circles over the skin. Dumas gives a grin at the reaction of the male below him. He must be sensitive there, then. Lucian tilts his head back, and moves to bury himself in Dumas’ neck, giving a gentle shudder. 

“I’ve invited someone over tonight.” The vampire’s voice is chillingly smooth, silken and calming; almost so much that Lucian doesn’t tense at his words. 

Someone,  **_else_ ** ? Before he can protest, Dumas has an index pressed against his lips. 

“A friend, from work. I thought it’d be a good  **_Valentine’s_ ** Day gift. Can’t have too many- what was her name? Ah, yes-  **_Ellen_ ** stand ins, can you?” Lucian swivels his head away from Dumas, and makes an angry attempt to move away from him, but the vampire has such incredible strength.

“Come on, just  **_listen_ ** . You can’t even ask me to go away without falling  _ apart _ , can you? Are you that pathetic, that you need me, this much?”

“Fuck you.” 

“Yes, how  **eloquently** put.” 

 

A moment passes, and Lucian relaxes back into Dumas’ touch, though, reluctantly. 

 

“That’s a **good** boy.” 

Dumas presses his mouth against Lucian’s, and Lucian reciprocates, though they are interrupted by the entry of, someone green, someone barefoot. Lucian is quick to break the kiss, and stares at the alien for a moment, eyebrows raised in uncertainty, and hesitation. He takes in the bald one’s appearance, lingering upon plump thighs, and a glowing stomach. Dumas lifts him off of his lap with great ease, and gives a nod to the alien, who had already walked in with a confidence Lucian tried to tell himself he didn’t find alluring. He feels the immense need to cover himself, his shirt having been tossed to the other side of the room.

Polidori turns to Dumas, nearly completely ignoring Lucian. “I have the deposit, however I’m still in need of a host.” The alien hisses, accented voice satisfying his ears.

The next thing Lucian knows is that he’s stripped himself bare, and is sat, albeit uncomfortably, upon Polidori’s lap. He wriggles a bit, in an futile attempt to get comfortable, before giving up. Dumas stands by, his bottom half still clothed, feet propped up upon the edge of the bed frame, near Lucian. He’d, partially briefed Lucian on what was going to happen, and Lucian, to his delight, accepted. 

Without warning, Lucian feels a cool intrusion inside of him, and he stifles a groan, thinking about what was happening. He can make out the fact that it’s, spherical; soft, and- god, it feels so filling, so satisfying, he can’t think, and by the sighs he hears below him, neither can Polidori. He feels as if he were being pried open, filled like a thanksgiving turkey- a juicy thanksgiving turkey. Another sphere enters him, and sharp nails dig into Polidoris thick thighs, whilst Dumas tenderly, and very carefully rubbed and traced Polidori’s feet (which, upon second glance, were shapely, curvy; perfect). Lucian, filling with questionable sphere upon sphere, leaked alien asshole milk, tired and worn out, continued to be filled, until everything seemed to stop, and Polidori’s shaking ceased. Polidori never showed any human-like, nor vampire-like affliction, such as hunger or exhaustion, but the lidded gaze, and his general aura gave off a certain sense of, tired; which was certainly understandable; however, more importantly,

 

“What were they? They were, tumors, you said?” 

 

Polidori would nod, but no; they were certainly **not** tumors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy balentine's day, king


End file.
